


The King and the Joker

by BridgeGoblin



Category: Epithet Erased (Cartoon)
Genre: F/M, Mystery, Romance, buddy cop, idk how to tag new ships lmfao hope it works
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-12-27
Updated: 2020-01-22
Packaged: 2021-02-24 15:54:54
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 2,727
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21980530
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/BridgeGoblin/pseuds/BridgeGoblin
Summary: After the events of Redwood Run, Percy and Ramsey are on the case to solve a series of strange burglaries around Sweet Jazz City. However this ends up being a lot more... complex than the two first thought. Something dangerous is stirring in Sweet Jazz City, and will these two be enough to stop it?
Relationships: Percival "Percy" King/Ramsey Murdoch, Ramsey Murdoch/Percival King
Comments: 13
Kudos: 112





	1. The Deal

**Author's Note:**

> A few things. 
> 
> 1\. I haven't seen Anime Campaign, so this isn't supposed to be in line with the canon of that. I've only seen season 1 of Epithet Erased as of right now  
> 2\. As such there will be spoilers for up to Episode 7 of Epithet Erased  
> 3\. Rating and tags *may* change. If they do I'll put it in a note too so no one is caught off guard. There are a few chapters I haven't decided if I want to include that would up the rating to explicit. For now I'll leave it as teen and up, but just keep that in mind.

Ramsey Murdoch sighs as he shifts in the chair he's cuffed to. He was in Sweet Jazz City Police's interrogation room. A room made of pure concrete, that's only light came from a flickering fluorescent bulb above his head. His chair that he was cuffed to was metallic, as was the table placed in front of him.

His arm was getting sore from sitting cuffed from to the table for over an hour. He had been listening to the muffled arguing of Sweet Jazz Police officers from beyond it. Occasionally he'd catch his name dropped.

Finally the door opens with a loud creek. The officer he had met earlier that day, Percy, enters looking somewhat sheepish. A taller woman with dark curly hair tucked into a police cap and tan skin follows behind Percy. She glares at Ramsey.

"Mr. Murdoch." The tall dark haired woman says with a bit of venom to her tone. "You have many serious crimes levied against you." She sits down across from Ramsey, pulling out a file and sliding it to him.

"Yeah yeah I know I already got the spiel from Percy over there." Ramsey says waving his hands the best he can while eraser cuffed. “I’m a bad guy. But you’re willing to cut a deal with me to-”

"Percival cut a deal with you that she didn't have the authority to make." 

"My apologies Chief Jones." Percy says with a small bow.

"Quiet Percival." The presumably Chief of Police turns her icy stare to Percy who glances away.

"If she hadn't you might not've gotten that there amulet back." Ramsey says with a slight smirk. A little twisting of the order of events never hurt nobody after all. "It's a more than fair deal. And I already agreed to it sooo..."

"What do you think a criminal can offer to our force that we cant acquire on our own?"

"Other than my top notch appraisal services? I still got some connections in the criminal underbelly of the city. Heck I'm even listed as a contact for them Bonzai Bozos. If you allow me to have some autonomy, you can catch more criminals than you have cells to store em in." 

Jones narrows her eyes. "Yes that is what Percy argued for. But you seemed to not be on good terms with the criminals of this town, if Zora's hunting of you is any indicator." 

Ramseys loses his confident smug look. "Listen, about that-"

"No I'm done listening.” She stands up and leans over the desk in one swift motion to get in Ramsey’s face, who leans back as far as he can in response. “Your new  _ buddy _ Percival has been advocating on your behalf for the past hour. So here is the new deal. You stay in a regular cell in a regular prison until your first task is completed. If you prove you're trustworthy, we will improve your accommodations. Capiche?" 

"Uh. Capiche." Ramsey says, beginning to sweat a little bit under the look. 

"Glad we have an understanding Mr. Murdoch." 

* * *

Ramsey paces his cell anxiously. He has a bunk, a desk, and a toilet. But other than that the room was bare. He had been processed and redressed in an orange jumpsuit, and his crayons and paper were confiscated. He had nothing. Not even his epithet.

He sighs and runs his hands through his slicked hair, his hands having a slight shake to them. Anxiety was tightening in his chest as thoughts raced through his head. What if this was a set-up by Percy? What if they had no intent of actually holding up their end of the bargain? What if he was stuck in this cell, with no Epithet, for the rest of his life? What if-

“Ramsey.” He turns to see Percy was standing outside his cell. She’s holding a tan folder in her hands as she approaches the bars.

“Percy what the flying heck is up with this cell? I got no cuffs on but I still can’t remember my Epithet!” Ramsey asks clearly panicked.

“It’s a state of the art Eraser Cell. It works like the Eraser Cuffs, only confined to a room and not the cuffs. Usually we have these cells reserved for our most dangerous Inscribed, but for now you’ll be staying in one. It’s Chief Jones’ orders.” Percy explains in her matter of fact tone.

“Aight, well then why am I here? I ain’t ever hurt a fly and you know that.” 

“Chief is worried that you could find a way to use your Epithet to escape,” Ramsey rolls his eyes when she says that “or worse, Zora might come looking for you. At the very least she can’t hurt you in here.” 

“I think I’d rather take my chances.” He grumbles causing Percy to give him a pitiful look.

“Here. This is the case I’ve been assigned by Chief Jones. If we solve this together, we can get you into a more comfortable arrangement.” She slides the file through the bars of the cell, which Ramsey nabs and begins to thumb through. “There have been a string of robberies throughout Sweet Jazz City. The first location targeted was Sweet Jazz Bank. The second location was Town Hall.”

“What links these two together enough you think it's the same guy?”

“They leave a calling card at the scene of each crime.” 

Ramsey pulls out a playing card from the file and eyes it. It depicts the 7 of Spades. “One of these?”

“Yes. They were found at both locations. Neither location had signs of forced entry either. And there’s a total lapse in security footage at both locations.”

“What was nabbed? Banks I get but what does City Hall got that interested this guy so much?” 

“The perpetrator took over 100 thousand dollars in cash from the bank. However from City Hall they took files going back to the city’s founding. Every paper file is gone.”

Ramsey continued to thumb through the file as they talked until he reached the back of the folder. “Huh.” Behind all the paperwork was a familiar box of crayons, and the note he wrote to himself back in Redwood Run that explains what his Epithet can do. “Did you-”   
  
“The only thing in that file is information pertaining to this case! Nothing more or less!” Percy swiftly interrupts him as she gives a quick glance behind her. 

Ramsey is silent for a moment before closing the folder and placing it on his desk. He clears his throat, the anxiety that he had felt when being locked in here easing somewhat. “Alright let’s see what I can do for you then.” 

He takes out the playing card again and eyes it. The first thing he notices is it wasn’t printed in ink. He runs is thumb along the face of the card. Colored pencil. He flips it over to the back and notices the lattice design, made of playing card symbols. The initials F.H. written in a fancy cursive script interrupt the lattice in the center of the card. “I’ve played a lotta poker in my day. Never seen these brand of cards before.”   
  
“We were unable to trace them back to any particular brand either.”

“That’s because they’re hand drawn. Hand cut too. Whoever your guy is they got a thing for personalized playing cards.” Ramsey walks over and hands the card to her through the bars. “Whoever made this has gotta lead on your guy. Find the artist, and ya find the crook.” He gives her a cheeky smile as she takes it back from him.

“Find the artist. Find the crook.” She repeats as she pockets the card. “Thank you, Ramsey.”


	2. The Lead

It’s been exactly 10 days since Ramsey got locked up in this holding cell. He’s spent his waking moments mapping out places to canvas in the city. Percy provided him a map of the city that he’s taped to his wall. He’s circled addresses in red crayon. From pawn shops to after school art clubs, anywhere that could have a lead Percy goes to investigate while Ramsey sits in his cell waiting for her to return. Ramsey currently is sitting at his desk combing through a phone book, stopping only to circle a number and dog ear a page before moving on.

Ramsey shakily runs his hands through his red greasy hair. It’s falling out of his ponytail and hanging in his face. He really needs to shower. Or sleep. Both would be nice. But every day that goes by without a new lead mounts his anxiety. The chief has visited his cell twice now in the past 48 hours asking on their progress, and each time she hums with a look of disgust on her face. She was losing patience with them, he could feel it.

“Ramsey.” Ramsey jumps, his crayon clattering onto the desk. He hadn’t heard Percy approach his cell. “I have returned from the Sweet Jazz Elderly Arts Club. Unfortunately the proprietor there did not recognize the signature on the card.”

He sighs. More dead ends. He peels off a sticky note with two addresses scrawled on it from a dwindling stack and stands up. “Well I just found a few more smaller pawn shops. Maybe something will be there-” 

“Ramsey it’s already evening.” Ramsey blinks and notices Percy’s disheveled shirt and bags under her eyes. “19:00 to be precise. Chief Jones is upset at how much overtime I’ve been allotting as well…” 

Ramsey nods. “Right right I didn’t notice the time… In the mornin’ then.” 

Percy sighs and sticks her hand through the bars, holding it out expectantly. “I’ll investigate the locations on my way in.” Ramsey places the note in her hand, and before he can pull away she grabs his hand. “Get some rest tonight.”

“Is that an order officer?” He raises an eyebrow in jest.

“If that is what it will take to convince you to sleep an approximate 8 hours, then yes I am ordering you.” She replies completely serious.

He chuckles. “Aight, I’ll see you in the mornin Perc.”

* * *

Percy wakes up bright and early. She quickly eats her plain toast and downs a glass of water before heading off. She is up an entire hour early to make sure she has time to stop at the locations Ramsey has listed for her. Two small pawn shops on the opposite side of town. The first of which being Tony's Trinkets.

She arrives at precisely 5:00 AM before realizing, they’re not open. She pinches the bridge of her nose. How could she be so foolish? She supposes she also has been having trouble sleeping, making her forgetful. Chief Jones has been uncharacteristically harsh on her and Ramsey lately… The Chief has always been strict, but never so downright… Mean. She even called Ramsey a no good rat-faced felon, which Ramsey had laughed off, but Jones usually had composure around even the most diabolical of perpetrators. And Ramsey is  _ helping  _ the police, so her sudden harshness seems so out of place…

She realizes now she’s just standing outside the door doing nothing, which really is just a shameful waste of time. She surveys the pawnshop, and notices it has a second entrance for an upstairs apartment. Aha. Not all is lost. 

She presses the buzzer and waits. And waits. And waits. She’s about to give up when the door opens a crack, still locked by a chain. A short portly man in his pajamas looks up at her through said crack. Presumably Tony of Tony’s Trinkets. 

“Whaddya want?” He asks gruffly, clearly irritated at being awoken so early.

“Hello, Percival King with the Sweet Jazz Police Force. I’d like to-”

“Do ya got a warrant?” He interrupts her.

“No but-” 

“Then get out.”

He’s about to slam the door but, in an act of desperation, she jams her foot between the door and the doorway. She winces a bit, her toe is definitely bruised. “Please it will only take a moment.” She pleads, taking out a photocopy of the playing card. “I’m looking for any information about the artist who made this playing card.”

He gingerly takes it from her. “Have ya tried a casino?”

“Yes in fact. It seems to be one of a kind. Have you encountered the signature before, or perhaps a similar set of cards?”

He eyes the image as he grumbles “Look lady I got beauty sleep to catch up on…” He trails off.

“Sir?”

“I know da signature.” He says with a defeated sigh.

Percy’s heart is racing. A lead. She pulls out a pen and paper. “Please sir tell me everything.”

“Hold on. It’ll be easier to show ya.” He closes the apartment door, and a few moments later Tony’s Trinkets lights up and the door swings open. “Come on lady.”

She follows him inside. The name of the shop is accurate, random trinkets line the shelves of the store. Music boxes, antique samurai swords, boxes of baseball cards. The shop itself was small though, and Tony leads her to the “art” section that consists of 3 paintings. He points to the center one. A painting of Sweet Jazz City’s skyline, but the buildings are made out of poker chips, the moon in the sky is a figure 8 ball, and the cars lining the streets were playing cards. Stylistically it doesn’t have much in common with the playing card other than both being gambling related, but the signature in the bottom right corner appears to match. “Would you mind if I take a photograph?” She asks.

“Go ahead. Watcha want it for? You wanna buy it for somebody?”

She snaps a picture with her phone. “I am looking for the artist. How did you acquire this piece?”

“Got it ‘bout… Two weeks ago. Some lady came in wantin’ to sell it. No price named. Gave her a hundo for it. It’s a pretty piece but from a no name artist. She didn’t even haggle me about it though. Took the cash and skedaddled. Figured maybe one of da casinos would take it for two hundo but they don’t seem to have interest.” 

“Did she give her name?”

“Nah. Didn’t ask.”

She’ll have to come back later with a sketch artist… “Well I greatly appreciate your help.”

“I ain’t in trouble am I? Like dis ain’t stolen or somethin?”

“Do not worry Mr. Tony Trinkets. You have committed no crime. I might have to come back with an artist to render a sketch of the suspect who you bought this piece from though…”

“Can ya come back within store hours then? Fella needs his beauty sleep.”

“Of course! My apologies for the early morning intrusion. But it could be a breakthrough in this case, so thank you for your time.”

Percy hurries back to the station, but with the early morning traffic she still ends up 30 minutes late. For the first time in her time as an officer she is tempted to use her sirens to get through the traffic, but she doesn’t for that would be an abuse of her power. So she sits in traffic like every other citizen of the city. When she finally arrives at the station she makes a bee line for Ramsey’s cell, only to be stopped by Chief Jones.

“Percival. My office.” The chief is glowering at her and, despite Percy being taller than her, she all of a sudden feels very small.

She follows the chief into her office. The door is shut behind her. “I can explain why I’m-”

“I’m taking you and Murdoch off the case.” The chief interrupts.

Percy blinks. “What?” 

“It’s using up too many resources. And the mayor wants rounding up the Banzai Blasters to be top priority from now on.” 

“With all due respect Chief Jones, I believe Ramsey’s talents would be best suited for this case. We finally have a lead and-”

“Don’t back talk me Percival.” Chief Jones snaps. “Ramsey is being transferred to Sweet Jazz Correctional Institute where he will await trial. He’s off  _ all  _ cases, and going to serve his time like a felon is meant to. Is that understood?”

Percy hesitates. “Understood.” She says averting her eyes, trembling as she  _ lies  _ to her commanding officer.

“Good. You may say your goodbyes. He leaves tonight.”


End file.
